Reading City of Gods and Monsters is like falling down the stairs in slow motion with a bunch of traumatized angels and hot messes. You’re crying, you’re confused, and somehow you’re into it.

Do I recommend it? Yes. Will it heal you? No.

Will it hurt you in a way that feels intentional? Yes.

Do you have any self-respect left by the end? TBD.

If you’re reading Xaden’s POV and expecting subtlety, you’ve come to the wrong sword-wielding, emotionally-stunted fantasy boyfriend.

This isn’t literature—it’s indulgence. It’s emotional espresso for readers who wanted more from the original but mostly wanted more of him. You’re not here for plot expansion, you’re here for vibes, validation, and brooding monologues.

Just a gentle reminder: this is not a book. It’s a dramatized thirst trap wrapped in leather armor.

And you’ll eat it up. Like the rest of us.